


Moments the Words Dont Reach

by smilingsarah10



Series: Right Hand Frat [14]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Forgiveness, Kinda, M/M, Multi, Sick Fic, TW Disassociation, tw abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7454491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilingsarah10/pseuds/smilingsarah10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of the camping trip. Unexpected character redemption</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments the Words Dont Reach

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So if nothing else, as the author, I am going to ask you to please ~~start from the beginning~~ read the previous installment if you haven't already. I will warn you that there is a redemption arc for a character in this chapter (not seabury don't panic). As someone that has suffered personal abuse, I know these can be hard to read. So if you do not want to read this chapter, please do what is best for your mental health. This is the warning. Message me on tumblr at username smilingsarah10 and I can give you a rundown of the plot other than the redemption arc. I'm sorry if this is spoilers for other readers, but I just want to make sure there are no unnecessary surprises.  
>  As always, if I missed a pronoun, holla at me.  
> You're all awesome for following along with this series.  
> Alright now back to our boys <3

John felt like he hadn’t stopped screaming, although the silence in the clearing said otherwise. A large group of brothers had showed up, drawn to the noise and then shocked at the sight they found. Alex had helped cover John without pulling his pants up because putting cloth over what was essentially a second degree burn didn’t seem like a good idea. Thomas was holding a very shocked James as much as he could with him and John still secured to the tree. Apparently there was no failsafe on the handcuffs, so they would be there until they got cut down. Herc had pulled Laf away from Seabury who was laying on the ground near the campfire. John had spent the first five minutes pitifully begging for someone to bring them back; he needed to tell them he was sorry they had to fight his battle, that it wasn’t their fault, that they had done so well not killing him, and that he loved them. Apparently in his shock, he had been speaking out loud. Alex was rubbing comforting circles into his back and assuring him that Laf probably knew all those things and that it had only been two weeks so maybe save the “I love you” for a less stressful time as they heard the sirens approaching from a distance. 

Taking stock of his injuries, he realized they were going to put him in an ambulance and take him to a hospital for his burn and his more than likely broken wrists still bent uncomfortably in the restraint above his head. Laf was probably going to have to go to the police station alone because Seabury was seemingly still out. John couldn’t do anything about that personally, but he bet Thomas might want some revenge. “Yo, Thomas,” the other boy turned so that he was facing John but still holding James. His voice sounded weird in his ears, but he pressed on as if he hadn’t noticed anything. John figured he must look pretty rough based on the look James was giving him, but he pressed through the weirdness in his gut, “If you want to do me and Laf a favor, I’d appreciate it. See, they’re going to have to go to the police office alone unless Seabury is awake. I don’t particularly want to have to split an ambulance with him and have him be seen as a victim. Plus, he’s just laying over there faking being out so he doesn’t have to deal with any of the mess he created. I’ve been in enough fights to know the difference between someone out cold and someone faking it.” As John kept talking, he saw Thomas’ eyes harden. By the time he had finished, Thomas was already getting James settled back on his own and pulling away. John couldn’t turn around and see the campfire, but the yelp he heard when Thomas apparently picked up Seabury by the shirt collar and started dragging him down the hill to Herc and the Georges was deeply satisfying to him. 

Alex tapped John on the side. “Hey, man, are you ok? Your words are slurring and you’re not holding yourself as high as you were. I don’t want you to hurt your wrists further. WOAH, ok, Aaron, come here I think John’s about to…” John didn’t hear any more of what Alex was saying. Maybe the adrenaline was wearing off or maybe his body had just had enough because even despite the pain in his wrists or the sirens that were wailing even closer now, the cold comforting blackness was calling to him and he was _so tired_ all of the sudden. Someone was holding him like you would hold up a child. As soon as the pain was off his wrists, John let the darkness embrace him and passed out. 

\---------- 

When Thomas had dropped a groveling Seabury at the feet of Herc, Laf, and both Georges, Laf considered hitting him again. The police were close enough that the surrounding woods looked like an American themed rave: red, white, and blue lights glinting off of leaves and tents. Laf and George Frederick got into the back of one car while Herc escorted a crying Seabury into the back of the other. George looked at Laf when both the doors were closed. “How are you holding up?” 

Laf sighed, “It was self-defense, and I ‘ave diplomatic immunity since I’m basically French royalty, so I am not worried about the judicial system. National’s isn’t going to like this though. We have a zero tolerance policy for infighting. To tell you the truth, I still don’t care.” George snorted, but looked as if he agreed without saying as many words. Laf continued opening up, “I should be in the ambulance with my John. ‘e would never admit it, but ‘e is terrified of hospitals. To think of ‘im being stuck there, and me being stuck ‘ere makes me madder than the ‘ornet’s knees.” 

George hummed amicably, not correcting Laf. “No one is going to let you be kicked out of this house. Nationals can suck a giant dick. A whole bag of them actually. You basically saved two new member’s lives. That’s like going above and beyond the call of duty as a brother, regardless of if one of them happens to be your boyfriend. After this, I do think I am going to step down though. I was reading the rules the other day, and I can totally do that. Had no idea. The other George is set to take up: he and I talked about it. I would have defended you, but he and Herc are such loyal assholes that they’re gonna do a better job anyways. This is my last act as president. We are gonna’ get to the police station, throw the truth the fuck down, and get you to your man in the hospital.” 

Some people had mixed feelings about “G Freds” or “King George” or whatever you’d want to call him, but Laf was moved. He was loyal to his brothers and their beliefs, even if he had a rough way of showing it at some points. 

\---------- 

John couldn’t tell what was real and what was not as he was wheeled through the hospital. He couldn’t see anything, and it felt like there was an elephant sitting on his chest. He thought he saw George Washington with him, but then he also saw a clown and even dwarves, so he could have been slightly hallucinating. People were throwing scary words around like “stress induced myocardial infarction” and “radial fractures” and “surgery”, but John wasn’t aware enough to say anything one way or the other. Instead, he was wheeled into a room, hooked to an IV, and sunk back into the shadowy area just beyond consciousness. 

\---------- 

_White blobs and masses of shadows swam in his vision. Was it his vision? Nothing seemed real. There was a loud pitched beeping coming from somewhere around him. He couldn’t move: lacking the strength and the mental capacity. A strong French accent was coming from just out of whatever void he was in. The voice was arguing about the dangers of performing two surgeries in one day. There was a moment when a hand brushed his face, and his brain jumped with recognition. Before he could truly identify the touch, he was fading back out._

\---------

_John’s eyes functioned only marginally better the next time he opened them. There was a mass on the pull out couch to his left and someone holding his elbow while they slept in a chair pulled close to his bed. There was sunlight pouring through the window, so maybe they weren’t asleep: they were just moving slow. Or maybe John was the one moving slow. The angry pitched noise was still jolting through his consciousness, and he pulled away from the scene in front of him, back to the comfort of the darkness._

\---------- 

_John’s eyes didn’t open the next time he woke up. He just happened to tune into a conversation he didn’t think he was supposed to hear. One voice was very distinctly foreign, although every word seemed to wrap around John and make him feel safe. The other voice sounded like home and pain, the twang sounding familiar but wrong. There was no harshness in the words, the bitter sound replaced by one that was softer, more tired._

_“You must be John’s … boyfriend. Not that I doubt the bonds of brotherhood, but you really went out of your way to defend him, even to your own possible detriment. I’ve never seen someone threaten a doctor like that. I’m not sure whether to be worried or impressed.”_

_“Oui, but I prefer partner. They/Them pronouns. You can call me Lafayette, sir. And the nurse I threatened deserved it. Even though she was just doing ‘er job, she didn’t ‘ave to be so rough with John. I don’t care if ‘e’s unconscious or not.”_

_“They/Them? Can you use that in the singular?” There was a hum in response. “Well alright then. I’m not sure I understand, but if I’ve learned anything over the last 12 hours, it’s that you don’t have to understand. You just have to accept and love people as they are.” The room filled with silence once more._

_“Well, I’m glad there’s such a strong… person watching over my son. Not that I have much right to call him that really.” Was that his dad? Was his dad … crying? Over John? And not insulting Laf? John considered that this might be a dream. The thought was comforting._

_“Lafayette, I’m not sure what John’s said to you all about me. If he has said anything, I’m sure it hasn’t been good. He was my firstborn, and I put so much pressure on him to be perfect. I thought what I was doing was tough love. I thought that maybe that’s what he needed when his mother was gone. And dammit he was so much like his mom. I should have embraced that. But what I ended up doing was pushing him away and boxing him in and that was **so wrong** of me. And I didn’t even realize it until I was called by your Hercules and informed that someone was using my possible reaction as blackmail against him. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks, just how shitty I had been. And you don’t need to know this. I’m sorry I’m babbling. I want him to wake up, safe, so that I can apologize and see if there is any chance that he would forgive me and we could work on forming an actual relationship. I need him to know that I actually don’t give a shit who he sleeps with or chooses to love as long as he is alive and well. At the end of the day, he’s an amazing boy. And he’s my boy. He was my boy. I’m sorry.” The hand on his elbow gave a small squeeze as soft sobs filled the room. John thought about the moments he cherished from his old life: his dad’s smile when he brought home good grades, the praise when he had first learned how to ride a bike, the bailout and breakfast after John’s first fight. Had his dad been wrong and mean? Absolutely. Could John see them moving on from that point? Maybe if his apologies extended out of this dream and they took it slow._

_“With all due respect, Senator Laurens, John’s choices are ‘is own. But ‘e is always fair. ‘e ‘as never backed down from a challenge. And from what you’ve said, a new relationship starting with forgiveness might be a challenge ‘e could work towards. But that is completely up to ‘im. You’ll have to apologize and accept what ‘e says regardless of whether you like it or the contrary. C’est la vie. My John is going to make it through this regardless. Nothing would stop ‘im from fighting. Not a ‘eart attack. Not a major burn. Not two broken wrists. And until then, I won’t be leaving ‘is side. If you are willing to stay by ‘is side, too, for now that might be enough.”_

_John put all of his energy into getting out two words and the best smile he could do given the circumstances. “Régnant. Daddy.” He heard both of their breath hitch. Laf called for a nurse, but before she could even make it in the door, John went back under._

\---------- 

Laf was checking their email when Senator Laurens phone rang. He looked up from his station in the chair at John’s side apologetically, “It’s Stephanie. She had to stay home with John’s siblings and I haven’t checked in yet. Do you mind if I step out?” 

Laf waved him out the door with a small smile. For all of his faults up to this point, he had been a mess of a man for the last day that John had been in and out of surgery. Laf had been on the receiving end of many ‘life-revelations’ as John’s father slowly came to terms with the fact that he had apparently been really shitty to John and John had almost died because of it. Sometimes, unfortunately, it took near death experiences for people to realize their mistakes. It looked like John’s dad was willing to do whatever it took to get John back into his life. That could either be really good or really bad. But that was up to John to decide, not Laf. As soon as the door closed behind him, Laf was on their feet and moved to the chair directly beside John’s bed. 

John looked so pale, his freckles standing out stark against the pallor of his skin only broken up by bandages and tubes. They had to rush into emergency heart surgery when they had arrived. John had apparently had a stress induced heart attack that was bad enough to warrant that. Laf had arrived in the middle of it and George Washington had explained what was going on. The doctor said they would have to keep an eye on it. No strenuous activity for 8 weeks at the minimum and it could take months for him to feel completely better. They also had to do surgery to put pins in each of his wrists. Laf hadn’t thought two anesthesia heavy surgeries in less than twelve hours was a good idea, but there was little they could do as John was wheeled away again. There was also an eight week recovery minimum for those, but since they were going to be in a cast, that didn’t matter as much how gentle John was. Surprisingly, what had been the most visible wound on John had been the easiest to treat. The burn would heal on its own, they just had to keep it clean and dress it how you would any other open wound. 

Laf had taken extensive notes. They had emailed both their and John’s professors to notify them of the situation at hand and their class absences for the next few days as John would more than likely need time to rest before he was discharged. The blessing about going to a small college was that the professors were all very connected and concerned for their students. All had written back that accommodations would be made for John and Laf, having appointed themself as his personal nurse. Laf, having checked every social media they could think of, had switched to petting John’s face and lightly singing a French lullaby that they remembered from their childhood. 

In the relative silence of the room, Laf had time to process their thoughts on the last day. The police had been very understanding. Seabury was in a lot of trouble (not enough in Laf’s opinion), but Laf had gotten off on that end with a slap on the wrist. George Frederick had managed to get them to the hospital in no time at all just like promised. Washington had pulled some strings and got them to be able to stay with John, and Laf hadn’t left since. John’s dad kept offering to take watch so Laf could leave, but the most that they’d been away was to go to the bathroom and take a birdbath in the sink. Aaron, being the best little Laf could have asked for, brought them breakfast and assured them that he was taking care of nationals. Thomas had showed up at their usual lunchtime with their favorite sandwich and a tub of ice cream. He also brought a duffle bag with toiletries and clothes for both John and Laf for when they were discharged and could come home. Alex had showed up at dinner with something homemade and some cards. They had played a few rounds between checkups. All the while, Laf was getting to know John’s father better, and John slept on. 

A noise cut through Laf’s thoughts and their singing faltered. John’s eyes were open and clear, finally. Laf hit the nurse button so that she could come check in with a conscious John. When they met John’s eyes again, they were still open and sparkling with life. “‘Snice. Keep goin’.” So Laf kept singing. They sang softly as the nurse did her checkup. They sang softly as John and his dad had their first real conversation in years, unclouded by a nearness to loss and full of astounding forgiveness. Then when John’s dad had left for the hotel, Laf stood beside the bed and played with his hair and sang until he was back asleep. They sang still until they themself fell asleep on the pull out couch, wishing that they could crawl in the bed with John without hurting him. 

\----------- 

John had never felt more like he had crossed into a different universe than the first day after he woke up from surgery. There were tubes in places where he really never wanted to think about having tubes, he had a cast on each wrist with very bruised and frail fingers sticking out, and his ass hurt like a mother fucker. And that was just the physical trauma. The weirdest thing, by far, was watching his father interact _positively_ with his partner: joking about the dates they are going to go on while he was healing, showing him pictures of John from when John was a baby or small child that John had no idea he carried around in his wallet, telling him stories about John’s ‘rebellious phase’ in high school. It wasn’t perfect. John’s dad had misgendered Laf multiple times, but he was trying and even that was a large step in the right direction. 

When he was moved to a general room, his dad had arranged to get another single with a pull out couch. Technically, John wasn’t supposed to be allowed anyone to stay in his room, but Laf’s French accent and the two Laurens’ southern drawl was hard for the friendly nurses to resist. He would hopefully only be there for a little under a week. Laf had talked him through what his professors expected for when he got back to classes. It seemed a bit overwhelming, but John knew that Laf wasn’t going to leave his side and took comfort in that. 

He had assumed that he would be bored while recovering, but between his dad and Laf’s weird budding relationship and the constant barrage of visitors, he barely got enough rest. Alex had been in and out the most. He enjoyed talking with Senator Laurens about their differing opinions in the theory of law. Henry pointed out that Alex would love John’s stepmom, Stephanie. “She’s the best lawyer I know, even outside my bias.” 

Alex brought in pictures from their dorm. Everything was covered in binders and stacks of paper. There was a really cute picture of Hatter the tortoise underneath a castle made out of binders. John’s heart beat faster when he found out Herc knew about the illegal animal in his dowm, but his fears were diminished when Alex showed him the knitted shell coverings that Herc had made and put him in. “What is all that for?” John asked Alex while Laf and Henry were out of the room. 

“Don’t tell Laf. They don’t need any more stress. But nationals is coming in to do a full investigation of the whole incident. They already sent one of their lackeys to pave the way. Luckily though, Burr totally swung him over to our side on the first day. His name is John Jay. So far, I have been reading through every constitution and rulebook that we have; totally against fraternity rules, by the way, since I am not an initiated member. But desperate times calls for a bending of the rules. Anyway, it turns out the best course of action is to get letters of recommendation and verification of character on Laf’s behalf. JJ, that’s what we’ve been calling John Jay because, well, we already have a John: that’s you, but I digress, JJ wrote a sample letter and it’s been up to me and James to collect other ones. He’s been covering the rest of the Sons of Liberty and some notable alumni while I have gotten referrals from regular brothers, professors, and the sorority women. Burr is compiling them and making sure they are arranged in a way that the really good ones are interspersed with the just regular ones to make sure it holds their attention, Thomas is presenting them because he is the most charismatic next to Laf themself, and we are all holding our breath that it works. Seabury is fucked. There isn’t even one brother who wants to stand for him, but I think he might be going to jail anyways. Sorry, I’m rambling, and I’m not even sure I was supposed to tell you all that.” John was glad to see that some things never changed: Alex was still shit at keeping secrets and a fount of information that spilled from him as he wildly gesticulated. 

“Alexander, you are going to knock something over if you don’t quit flailing around like a mad man,” came an overly concerned voice from the doorway. Eliza glided in, firmly placing a delicate hand on Alex’s shoulder stilling him. Once he was calm, she patted his cheek and shooed him to the foot of the bed. “Angelica and Peggy send their regards to both you and Laf. We had come up with a whole scheme to convince your father that you were dating one of us, but Laf told us that was unnecessary and that they and your father are actually really bonding. I’m super happy that is one less thing you have to worry about. Now, I know that hospital food is not the best so I smuggled in some contraband goodies. I checked with mu nursing friends and they said as long as it doesn’t have sodium or caffeine you should be fine and I thought that some muffins and home-made granola won’t have that much of either of those.” 

She placed her hand on his elbow, noticing the bruising around his hands. “Daddy said that if your dad didn’t want to stay in the campus hotel, he could come stay at our house. The food and company is guaranteed to be better. Although you seem to have the nurses under your thumb.” 

“Ain’t nobody able to resist a lil’ southern charm, ‘Liza,” John exaggeratedly drawled. Alex rolled his eyes and was about to say something when Laf walked in. “Ah, I knew I heard my favorite man from the south speaking!” They approached John and kissed him gently on both cheeks. 

Alex excused himself to go to class giving John finger guns on the way out the door and winking at Eliza. She stayed until Henry came back, providing easy conversation and filling them on the antics of the sorority house. When he arrived, she extended her offer of housing to him directly. He checked with Laf and John to make sure they were ok with him being a little further away. Neither of them saw any fault in that. John was secretly relieved that maybe he would get some alone time with his significant other. 

Eliza and Henry left to go get him settled in his new accommodations, and John let out a sigh of relief. Laf looked towards him amused. “You doing ok there, mon petit?” 

John gave them his best smirk. “I was wonderin’ if you an’ me were ever gonna get a moment alone.” He loved the way his words alone could affect Laf. The exaggerated drawl got the best reaction though as his partner groaned. 

“John Laurens, you will be the death of me yet. Your father ‘as been gone less than a minute, and you just ‘ad _multiple surgeries_ and if you think we are doing anything before they clear you for intense activity, you are mistaken. John, no, don’t give me that look,” Laf started strong but their voice tapered off and wavered in the face of John’s puppy dog eyes. “No, now that is unfair! You are not allowed to look that cute when I can’t even barely touch you. None of the small dog eyes. I will not bear that.”

“But Régnant,” John whined still pouting, “It’s only my heart, hands, and ass. I still have a perfectly good mouth and dick.” John couldn’t help but laugh when Laf chocked on nothing when he finished his sentence. They were muttering under their breath, something about a petulant child and what’s going to happen at the end of the 8 weeks. John couldn’t wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> So fun fact: Henry Laurens seemed like a historically good dad. Like definitely not the best guy in the history of guys, but definitely not the devil. And since I'm currently reading about him, I'm having a hard time writing about him being, ya know, awful. So I resolved the abuse in the way that some days I wish that my abuser would have talked to me. If you are unhappy with it, I'm not afraid to talk about it and listen to other opinions. Just keep in mind that this is fiction and I am doing the best I can. Once again, thank you for reading my writing. <3


End file.
